


Lost In Hawkins

by flamehairedwritings



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Crack?, F/M, Hallowe'en Fic, Kinda?, Parallel Universes, based on Lost In Austen, mentions of a drink being spiked, sequel this Hallowe'en!, wooops i was meant to upload this a while ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamehairedwritings/pseuds/flamehairedwritings
Summary: Your Hallowe’en night takes an unexpected turn.Based on the ITV series 'Lost In Austen'.
Relationships: Jim "Chief" Hopper/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Lost In Hawkins

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

“Get the fuck away from me, you shitting shit-bag.”

“Jesus, Meg—”

“ _No_ , I am _not_ having a heart-attack tonight.”

You purse your lips slightly in an effort to stop a smile as she all but bares her teeth at the poor teenager dressed as a clown, decidedly less scarier than when he’d jumped out at you both with his now stunned expression.

Nearly growling, she pushes through plastic sheets and you follow after her, secretly delighted when she finds the nearest exit and you step out into fresh, open air.

“God, don’t people know what personal space is anymore?”

Manoeuvring past a group of smokers, Meg blows out a long breath as you adjust your corset, stepping towards the only nearest free space on the worn grass.

You hum in agreement as you join her. “I think a space capacity code is being violated here.”

“You can say that again.”

The cool air of the night feels wonderful, the Fun House having been stifling with sweat, paint and something you don’t want to know having filled the air. Pulling the white blouse off your shoulders from where it has ridden up, you turn to her with a nostalgic sigh.

“Remember when we used to just throw sheets on, walk around the block to get free candy and then be in bed by 8?”

“Yeah. Those were the days,” Meg also sighs, folding her arms with a wistful smile. “But, hey, this is what happens when you get peer pressured by colleagues.”

“Well, I was ready and raring for this two hours ago and now I’m just… tired.”

“I think we’re old now, darling.”

“I’m ready to accept it.”

“Me, too.” Huffing out another breath, she casts her gaze around. “I only really wanted to come because Elvira’s here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “That’s not been confirmed.”

“It has.”

“By who?”

“Aaron.”

“ _Aaron Watkins_? He once told me moose aren’t real.”

“He said that when we were sixteen.”

“Far too old an age to be saying things like that.”

“He was joking… I hope.”

“He certainly wasn’t joking.” Clearing your throat, you shiver lightly and rub your arms, the once welcomed cool air now just cold. “Anyway, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think the week’s caught up with me.”

“All right, how are you gonna get home?”

“Well, I can’t afford a taxi so I’ll get the bus.”

“Do you want to _die_?” Meg gapes at you incredulously.

“If I die on Hallowe’en, don’t I get to walk the Earth on this day every year? How fun.”

“I’d rather you walked it 365 days a year. I will give you money for a cab.”

“No, Meg, c’mon,” you protest, shaking your head as she reaches for her purse. “It’s going to cost too much, it’s too far. I’ll get the bus, there’ll be other people on it, it’s a busy night, and I’ll text you every five minutes, I promise.”

“Fine. but text me _discreetly_ ,” she orders as she pulls you in for a hug. “I don’t want people seeing you with your phone out and then wanting to steal it. And call me when you get off the bus and you’re walking home, I mean it.”

“I will, I will. Love you.” You beam at her as she finally releases you.

“Love you, too. Please don’t die.”

* * *

Thankfully, the bus stop was only a little further up the road from the entrance to the carnival grounds. Other people seemed to have had the same idea as you, too, the stop somewhat crowded with families, the kids already asleep, teenagers chattering excitedly about their next destination, and some exceedingly tired people your age, muffling yawns and chewing sweets. 

When your bus had arrived it was already half-full but you managed to find a seat on the ground level at the back, sitting beside a teenager who doesn’t look at you, their hood up, headphones on.

_Perfect. No possible way of someone initiating a conversation here._

The bus had trundled along slowly, stopping at seemingly every stop known to man, and people had trickled off until now, when it’s just you, an older lady near the front on the ground floor and possibly people on the upper floor.

The bus slows to a halt on a well-lit road, and you know you’re only a few stops away from your own, relief filling you.

_I’m going for you, pyjamas._

The older lady shuffles off the bus and you hear someone descending from the top of the stairs, instinctive curiosity making you lift your gaze to see who it is.

It’s Barb from _Stranger Things_.

Except it’s not because she doesn’t exist, but the teenager looks _exactly_ like her, complete with the perfect hair-style, glasses and outfit. They catch your eye and you smile. They smile back but it seems more out of reflex than genuine want to.

_Stop staring, you look like a weirdo._

Once they’re off the bus, the doors close and the bus moves on. As it pulls away from the curb, you just can’t stop yourself from looking at ‘Barb’. They stand on the pavement, facing the road, waiting for the bus to pass, their hands in their pockets.

_Just amazing. Absolutely uncanny._

You feel slightly bad that you didn’t compliment the person on their work, they obviously worked hard, but then again, you’re at the back of the bus and they probably wouldn’t have appreciated you yelling out to them, even if it was out of the goodness of your heart. They looked a little… sad, though, so maybe it would have cheered them up.

Facing the front again, you glance down at your phone and press the button to unlock it, wanting to tell Meg.

The screen remains blank.

You frown and press it again.

Nothing.

You definitely know it was at 78% when you last—

The screen lights up, pure white for a moment, then your lock-screen appears, complete with picture, the correct time, and the notifications you’d been ignoring.

_Huh. Weird._

You don’t think too much on it, your phone does tend to glitch occasionally.

The light above you flickers, then so do the others, and your gaze darts up to watch them. In a line, one after the other, they go out, then shine brightly once more after a second.

_… Right._

The bus slows, the last one before your own and, again, relief washes over you.

_Not long now, so close—_

“Last stop, lady.”

Your eyes snap to the bus driver, who’s leaning out of his seat to look at you.

“What? No, this isn’t the end of the line.”

There’s an edge to your tone, one you wouldn’t usually have with a public services worker if it wasn’t pitch-black outside and some lights flickering hadn’t just freaked you out a bit more than you’d like to admit.

He shrugs. “Sorry, I’m gonna run out of fuel.”

_Ah, so that might explain the lights, then. That’s how it works… maybe._

“Is there another bus coming to finish the route?”

“At this time of night? Hell no.”

_Oh my God._

You stare at him. “… What am I supposed to do, then?”

He shrugs again. “It isn’t that far to the end of the line.”

You can hear how desperate you are. “Couldn’t you take me some of the way?”

“Nah, station’s the other direction, I’d break down.”

_Right, so this is a me problem._

Huffing and knowing you’re not going to win at all, you grab your bag and march down to the front of the bus, wrestling with your conscience that you can’t yell at him because it’s not his fault and you hate when customers yell at you when something isn’t your fault but also this is _kind of_ his fault maybe in some way but it also isn’t and—

“Fine. Fine,” you mutter as you step off the bus before quickly turning to him. “I’m not the kind of person to do this, but I’m going to send the company a rather shitty email in the morning.”

“All right, miss.” Not one ounce of sympathy or care on his expression.

Clenching your jaw, you step back as the doors close and he pulls away, making you realise you were the only person left on the bus.

_Right. No one else to rant with or pair up with and be safe with._

Okay, you know where you are, it’s not that far to home, you have perfume in your bag you can use as a kind of pepper spray, and you can call Meg. Scanning the area and pulling your phone out, you unlock it and type out a message to Meg.

> Just my luck, bus running out of gas so had to get off and now walking. * _skull emoji*_. Isn’t this how horror films start?

Sending it, you glance up again to check for anyone before quickly typing and sending:

> Can I call you?

Lifting your head, you’re about to lock your phone when it vibrates. Looking down at the screen, you frown.

‘ _Message unable to send. Try again_.’ it reads next to ‘ _Can I call you?_ ’

You tap ‘ _Try again_ ’.

The message reappears a moment later.

‘ _Message unable to send. Try again_.’

_What the—_

You look at the signal bars and—

No signal.

_What the hell?_

The first message was able to send and you haven’t even moved so how the _hell_ hasn’t the second? You’ve never not had signal in this area.

Exhaling a frustrated breath, the cold night air helps you decide you can ruminate on it later. Heading down the path next to the woods that leads home, you blow out another, quiet breath and shove your phone into your bag. 

_Maybe in a few steps it’ll be okay._

You glance to the side, eyeing the woods.

_Do not think about ghosts and ghouls, do not freak yourself out, do not be a bitch to yourself._

You quicken your pace, staring ahead.

It’s quiet. Quieter than usual. Usually there’s crickets chirping or an owl hooting or cars passing but… nothing.

The street lights are out, too, and you contemplate using your phone’s torch.

_No. Don’t signal your whereabouts to… anyone._

_like…_

_murderers…_

_… shit …_

_… Just like the white winged dove,  
Sings a song,  
Sounds like she’s singing,  
Who, who, who_

Singing loudly in your head always helped to calm you. Keeping your gaze directly ahead, you continue, reminding yourself you’re only ten minutes from home.

_Just like the white winged dove,  
Sings a song,  
Sounds like she’s singing,  
Oh baby oh said oh ,_

Ten minutes until you’re home. Then you can get out of this costume, have something to eat and go to sleep.

_And the days go by  
Like a strand in the wind  
In the web that is my own_

_I begin again_

_Said to my friend, baby  
Nothin’ else mattered_

Maybe you’ll watch a few episodes of something you don’t have to think too hard about.

_He was no more than a baby then  
Well he seemed broken hearted  
Something within him_

Or maybe a bath, ooh, a bath sounds great, why did you wear these shoes, well, you didn’t think you’d be walking ages in them.

_But the moment that I first laid  
Eyes on him—_

The sound of a dull, muffled explosion echoes across the forest.

You cry out in fright as you freeze, your head whipping to the side instinctively to find the source.

_Oh my God… what the **fuck** was that…_

Your gaze darts about, and a breeze suddenly washes over you, as if pushed in your direction but that’s impossible because there’s been no wind all night and there’s none now, it’s just gone—

An orange light flickers amongst the trees, not too far away.

_It’s just a flash light._

_It’s just some kids playing around._

You stare at it.

_It’s not moving._

_It’s just kids playing about._

_They’re probably setting off fireworks and one went wrong._

_Then how come I can’t hear voices._

_Shit, are they hurt?_

Concern takes over from fear as you narrow your eyes, trying to look for any signs of movement at all. Nothing.

_Check._

_Go and look._

_People could be hurt._

Reaching your hand into your bag, you pull your phone out and glance down.

One bar.

_Fuck, **yes**._

Dialling the emergency services, you find that one tiny bar has given you confidence, and you stride towards the light.

It’s not until you’re a few feet away that you realise it’s not a flash light.

It’s not until you’re a few feet away that you realise your phone is still dialling and hasn’t connected, a crackling sound taking over.

It’s not until it’s too late that you realise the light is drawing you in and you can’t look away from it, can’t stop walking.

It’s not until it’s too late that you realise you can’t hear or see anything.

It’s not until you’re walking through the light that you realise you’re going to die.

The last thought you have is:

_Oh my God, I’m going to fucking die in a shitty pirate costume._

* * *

You’re falling.

How is that possible?

Wait, you can’t see anything and your stomach isn’t dropping like it should do when you fall and— Holy fucking shit, yes it is, now it is, holy fuck, you’re going to be sick, what the fuck—

You land face down on something damp with a grunted ‘ _oof_ ’’. Groaning, your head spinning, your hands move out slowly and you feel you’re on something solid. Squishy, but solid. Pushing yourself up, your arms shake slightly as you lift your head, blinking several times.

Glancing around, you find you’re still in the woods.

_What the hell…_

_I must have tripped._

_What the hell did I trip on?_

Looking over your shoulder, you just see leaves on the ground.

_Was there a rock hidden under all that? Yeah, that’s what it must have been._

Pushing yourself up with a groan, you brush the leaves and twigs from you, tutting at the streaks of mud across your costume.

_I hope this bloody comes out or— Hang on a fucking second._

Turning quickly, you freeze.

_Where the hell is that light?_

You scan the area, still frozen.

… You must have imagined it. Or knocked it over. Or…

_Just go home._

Turning, you start striding off.

_Am I going in the right direction? I don’t care. Just get away from this area. No, get your phone out and Google Map it to see where—_

There’s a road. Just up ahead. The trees thinning out.

_Right. We’re back on track, this is where I was before, didn’t realise I was so close but hey, ho…_

Striding towards it, you emerge out of the woods and stop abruptly.

_Where’s the pavement?_

You look one way, then the other.

_… Is this a new road? Has it always been here?_

It’s been a while since you walked through the woods but surely you’d have noticed if they’d been doing road works to create a new one… Unless…

_Oh my God, am I **concussed**? This is the last thing I need.  
_

You start walking before you realise it. Heading left down the road. You’re near to your neighbourhood. It has to be this way.

_**Google Maps.** _

Fumbling with your bag, you open it and pull your phone out, pressing the button to unlock the screen. Nothing.

_Oh, not again, please…_

You press it again, then again, then again, then again.

Still… nothing.

_Right, don’t get upset, you’ll be fine, one way or another you’ll end up in your neighbourhood of the next one over, so at least you’ll know where you are._

You shove your phone back in to your bag and fold your arms tightly. It’s so damn cold. Why didn’t you just stay at home tonight.

You stare down the road. You don’t recognise a thing.

Everything looks different at night. You’ll be okay.

Bright headlights suddenly appear at your feet, growing larger as you hear a vehicle approach.

It slows as it nears.

_Right, I’m either going to be murdered or get directions._

Steeling yourself, you also slow as it nears.

_Here we go._

Turning, you’re blinded for a moment as the headlights hit your eyes. Squinting and shielding them, the vehicle, a car, pulls to a stop beside you.

Oh. Not just any car. A police car, apparently.

The window rolls down and a man pops his head out.

“You okay there, ma’am?”

“Yep. I’m fine, thank you.”

You’re not, but it’s an automatic response. He seems to know you’re not, casting a glance over you… and as he sizes you up, you size him up.

You recognise him.

You don’t know how, you’ve never had a conversation with a police officer before. Not knowingly, anyway. Maybe he’s a regular customer, or you’ve just seen him around.

“Where are you heading, ma’am?”

“Home.”

_Why am I being questioned._

“And where’s home?”

“Hanover Street.”

He stares at you.

“Hanover Street?”

“Yeah.”

He’s still staring.

“Whereabouts is that, ma’am?”

_God, you’re a rubbish cop._

“Just around the corner from The Lion and The Unicorn.”

“Right.” He looks you over again, frowning. “Have you been out this evening, ma’am?”

You frown in return, unease starting to creep up. “Yes.”

“Right.” Meeting your gaze, he then opens the car door and steps out, and your stomach drops. “Ma’am, if you’d just like to get in the car…”

_Oh my God, this is the last thing I need._

You open your mouth, then close it because you are _not_ about to argue with a police officer right now. Stifling an irritated sigh, you climb into the car as he opens the door behind his.

_On the bright side, I might get a ride home._

* * *

You do not get a ride home.

The officer is silent as he drives, occasionally glancing in the rear-view mirror to look at you. You pretend not to notice, your own gaze darting down to your concealed phone every now and then. Still no signal.

_I can’t wait until I find this hilarious._

The ride only takes a couple of minutes before you realise you’ve reached his destination. The police station.

You don’t recognise it, but then again you’ve never had a reason to go to the station.

You didn’t know the station was so close, though.

Once the officer parks up, he opens the door for you and waits for you to step out before gently instructing you to follow him. You obey.

The station is busy, phones ringing and people walking up and down.

_Well, it is Hallowe’en._

Slightly overwhelmed and tired and maybe perhaps a little frightened, you do as you’re told, sitting at a desk the officer points at. You hold your bag on your lap, your shoulders slightly hunched.

You only have to wait a few moments before another officer takes a seat opposite you, not looking at you as he greets you with a weary ‘ _Good evening_ ’.

Hang on. You recognise this officer, too. Maybe he’s also a customer. Not important right now.

“Right…” he slaps a notepad down in front of him and takes a pen from his shirt pocket before finally looking at you. “… What were you doing walking down a dark road on your own, miss?”

“Uh…” _Just tell the truth, you haven’t done anything wrong_. “I was walking home.”

“Nobody wanted to give you a ride?”

He’s making notes and you can’t help but stare at his pen moving.

“Uh, no, well, there was no one _to_ give me a ride, I got the bus but then I had to get off ‘cause it was running out of fuel, but it’s not far to my home so it’s not too far a walk.”

“And home is Hanover Street?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

The fact he’s conversed with the other officer makes you nervous.

_Please don’t obsess about what they might have said._

“Around the corner from The Lion and The Unicorn?”

“Yeah.”

Too late, you’re obsessing.

“And what is that, miss?”

You can’t stop yourself from frowning.

“It’s the pub, it’s only probably about five minutes away from here.”

“Right.”

The way he says it makes you feel like you’re wrong, but you can’t be, you’ve been to that pub a thousand times before. You might not have recognised the road you were on, but as it was in your woods you _know_ the pub is close by.

“And why were you by the woods, miss? Seems a bit dangerous for this time of night.”

“Oh, well…”

Do you tell the truth? Oh, yes, deflect from whatever it is you seem to have done wrong.

You sit up a little straighter, slightly more confident now because you have vital information. “… I heard an explosion in the woods.”

His pen pauses as his gaze snaps up to you. “An explosion?”

“Yeah. It sounded quite quiet.”

Gazing at you, his eyes then lift to something behind you. “Hey, Flo, we heard anything tonight about an explosion?”

A woman wearing large glasses passes by the desk. “No, honey, just drunks and people calling about the poor boy.”

“All right.” The officer raises his eyebrows slightly, then looks to you. Then he frowns. “Hey, you all right?”

You’re staring at the woman’s back, frozen.

_Oh my God. Oh my God… **Flo**._

“Miss—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Your tone and suddenly sharp gaze takes him aback slightly, but he recovers swiftly.

“Excuse me?”

You stare at Flo again, then back to him.

“ _What_ is going on here?”

“Miss, how much have you had to drink tonight?”

You would have been offended by the question if your mind wasn’t racing. Your racing mind also doesn’t give you a chance to really think about what to say in return.

“Not a lot. Four cocktails.”

“Four?”

“2-4-1, all day, every day.” You’re practically trying to stare him down now, trying to make him crack. “ _What is going on_?”

He changes tact, clasping his hands together on the desk. “You’re being questioned because you were found wandering alone on the side of the road, and you seem somewhat disorientated.”

_Yes, I’m fucking disorientated._

You place your finger on the desk. “This is, this is Hawkins Police Station.”

He doesn’t react. “Yes.”

“From _Stranger Things_.”

Now he reacts, his eyebrows raising a fraction.

“… Miss, have you taken any narcotics this evening?”

“No.” You can’t stop yourself from lowering your voice. “Am I being pranked right now?”

_His_ voice is suddenly gentler. “Do you have someone we could call?”

You just stare at him, trying to find an inkling of _something_ on his features.

The joke should have ended by now, surely.

Your anger starts to turn to agitation. “May I go?”

He’s looking at you sympathetically which isn’t good at all. “Do you have someone we could call to come and pick you up?”

Your eyes dart about the station.

Everything is exactly like it is on the show. There’s no way this is a set up. How could it all have been set up? You fell in the forest and suddenly there was a road that had never been there before, an entire sound-stage and the _exact_ actors?

Nausea washes over you as you swallow hard.

“Can I have some water, please?”

“Yeah, sure.” He rises, his gaze lingering on you, before he walks around you.

Exhaling a long breath, you stare down at your bag.

_I think I just need to sober up. Probably more drunk than I realised I was. Or I’m concussed._

You close your eyes.

_Shit, shit, shit, think. How can I think when I don’t know what the fuck is going on? How is this possible, what the fuck is going on, oh, God, don’t faint, don’t faint—_

Your eyes open as you hear him return and a glass of water appears before you. You instantly grab it, taking a long sip. Your hand shakes slightly as you set it back down.

He sits down again, a troubled expression on his features as he watches you. “Sure you’re all right?”

_Oh, no._

_Don’t do it._

“Uhm…”

_Don’t you do it._

“… I think…”

_Don’t you dare._

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh, shit—”

You make it just in time. Turning your head, your body lurches forward as you bend at the waist and throw up in to the waste bin by his desk. You close your eyes tightly as you vomit again, hearing people around you.

“Oh, Jesus, Flo, can we have some paper towels, please?”

“Someone’s havin’ a rough night, huh?”

_Oh, no._

_Oh, **fuck**._

_Oh, no, this isn’t possible._

Lifting your head as you inhale a shaking breath, not thinking to wipe your mouth, you look up and meet the gaze of Chief Jim Hopper.

His frown is the last thing you see before you pass out.

* * *

_Ah, unconsciousness._

Oh, no, not unconsciousness because you’re having a thought. A thought that unconsciousness is nice. Uncomplicated.

There’s a weight on your shoulder, a gentle weight. Slowly opening your eyes, you gaze up at the faces of three people.

_Oh, fuck **off.**_

Flo, the officer, Powell, you remember his name now, and… and Hopper.

David Harbour. Hopper.

_I hope I pass out again._

You don’t, forcing you to realise you were only unconscious for probably a minute or so as you’re still on the floor.

_Oh, God, it’s still happening._

“Hey, you okay?”

You look to David/Hopper.

_I hate this._

_I’ve masturbated thinking about you._

_Oh my God, **stop it.**_

“Yeah… yeah… Can you… Can you back off, please?”

“Uh, yeah.”

All three of them move away and stand as you push yourself up, wincing slightly. Nobody apparently caught you because there’s a dull ache at the back of your head.

_Brilliant. Concussion on top of concussion, probably._

You know you won’t be sick again but you feel so overwhelmed, like you can’t breathe.

“I need some air.”

Powell, thankfully, speaks this time. “You wanna take a walk?”

“Yeah, on my own. I’ll be fine.” You’re already walking towards the exit.

Then, David/Hopper is at your side, pushing the door open for you. “Nah, can’t let you do that on you’re own.”

You take extra care to not be one inch closer to him than you need to be as you pass through the door. Stepping out, once again, into the welcome, cold night air, you inhale a deep breath. You can’t look at him.

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, we’re just concerned.”

The parking lot is quiet, half empty, small. You start to pace, still unable to look at him.

“I’m fine.”

“Is there anyone who could come and get you?”

_I’d love it if everyone would stop asking me that._

“I—” _Just play along, don’t look at him, don’t do it._ “No.”

“Where do you live?”

“I, uhm, I don’t live here, I’m just visiting a friend.” _Nice cover_.

“Do you know the address?”

_Oh, shit._

“No.”

“Do—”

“Hop, come on, we gotta go, there’s a fight at McCorley’s.”

You lift your head to see Powell, calling out to Hopper/David, heading for a truck. 

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at Hopper.

_God._

_Season 1 Hopper._

You’ve missed the stubble.

_Stop it._

“Shit. Hang on,” Hopper/David answers before turning back to you, a frown returning to his features. “Do you know the neighbourhood where your friend lives?”

“No.”

“Right.” _‘Real helpful’_ , you can practically hear him thinking. He raises his eyebrows and holds his hand out in a _stay put_ gesture. “Stay here until we get back, all right?”

You nod, still unable to meet his gaze, swinging your arms slightly. “Yep, okay.”

He watches you for a moment, then nods, turning and striding away to his Blazer.

You stand still, watching as he gets in, starts the engine, then reverses and drives away. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re moving. Where, you have absolutely no idea.

_This isn’t real. This **cannot** be real._

You can feel the ground beneath your feet as you head down the main road and a light breeze on your face but it _can’t be real_.

_Unless…_

_That_ was it. 

_Someone’s drugged my drink. I don’t know when or how, I bought all my own drinks and didn’t put them down once, but someone has, that’s the only explanation. I’m having a very, very, very vivid hallucination and I’m actually walking around my house right now._

You suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

_What am I supposed to do, then._

Like anything, you suppose; sleep it off.

_But where?_

Are you even in your house? You could be in the forest, that’s when you’d seen that damn light and that’s probably when the drugs had hit. Rubbing at your forehead, you blow out a breath and close your eyes. You’re starting to get a headache and you have no idea what’s going on and you just—

_Stop it, take a breath._

Inhaling and exhaling three long, slow breaths, you lift your head and open your eyes.

_Yep. still here._

But, there, a short walk away, you see the centre of Hawkins, lights shining brightly in the darkness.

_Sleep it off._

_**Sleep it off**._

_Motel. There has to be one._

Moving forward, you’re striding now.

_Play along with the hallucination, just play it out. This could all just be in your head._

_Oh, God, I hope this is all in my head._

_What the hell am I **doing**._

Coming to a halt, you groan as you bend over, your hands on your knees, your eyes closed.

_Please don’t be sick again._

_Or do, it’ll give me something to do._

“Excuse me, dear?”

_Oh, **God** , what **now** …_

Straightening up, you lift your head and find Flo, the actual _Flo_ , standing a few feet behind you, her hands clasped together. She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Uh… I was just… going.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.” _Why am I crumbling under her gaze_.

“Chief let you go did he?”

“Yep.” _Oh, God, this is a criminal offence. She definitely knows I’m lying._

“Where are you goin’ to? Remember where your friend lives?”

“Uh, no, I was just… I was going to find a motel.”

“Like hell you are in your state.” She drops her arms and gestures for you to return. “Come on. I got a spare room.”

“Uh…” You stare at her, not really knowing what to do. “… I could be a serial killer, you know.”

She eyes you. “Nah, you ain’t.”

Then, she turns and starts walking back to the station.

_… Right._

You follow after her. 

Because what the hell else is there to do.

* * *

Flo had said if you needed anything, to let her know.

_Oh, Flo. Oh, Flo, even you can’t help with this._

Holding the blankets up against your chest, you stare up at the ceiling. 

_This is mad. This is bizarre. But it’s real._

That much you’ve come to terms with.

You’ve seen enough TV shows and films to have some sort of an inkling of what’s going on.

You’ve gone through some sort of a dimension.

That, or you’re part of a prank show you’ve never heard of. 

The former seems more likely than the latter, though. Your friends would never put you up for a prank show because they know you’d hate it. and you’re not aware of having an arch-enemy. So, you’ve passed into another dimension. A dimension that houses the land of your favourite TV show.

_Right. So. What’s the plan, then._

Sleep, get up in the morning, rifle through the bags of clothes Flo said you could, find something to wear, then go back to the woods and find the portal back.

A snort escapes you.

_I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about portals and dimensions and how to get back to my own world. And now i’m laughing about it. I’m delirious. Maybe I will just wake up and this will all be something other than real. That would be amazing._

Closing your eyes, you pull the blankets up a little higher.

_This is the weirdest night of my life. And possibly the comfiest bed I’ve ever slept in. Silver linings._

You’d followed after Flo, dutifully, like a good law-abiding citizen, even if you are in a different world, and gotten into her car.

She’d asked you a few basic questions as she drove; your name, if you were hungry, how you were feeling. You answered truthfully, still absolutely baffled by the bizarreness of the situation.

Once at her home, you’d not had much of a chance to look at where the actual Flo lives as she’d led you straight to the guest room, having told her you weren’t hungry but tired.

_Add overwhelmed and incredibly confused to that._

That’s where you now find yourself.

Closing your eyes, you want to make a plan but you also don’t want to think too much about what is happening right now because you think your brain might actually explode.

_Just sleep._

_Just sleep, maybe this is all actually a dream._

_That would be amazing._

You’re awoken what feels like only three seconds later by the bedroom door opening and knocking against the chest of drawers beside it.

Your eyes snap open and your head shoots up.

Flo stands in the doorway, already dressed, smiling at you warmly.

“Good morning, sweetie. Up you get, I’ve got breakfast ready.”

Your head drops back down as she, leaving the door open, heads back to the kitchen, your arms covering your eyes.

_Oh, God. This is still real._

Rolling out of bed, you shuffle over to the bin bags in the corner, untying and rifling through them for an outfit. A dress and leggings come out in your size so you quickly tug them on, pull your boots back on, and shove your costume and bag into a tote bag you came across.

Breakfast with Flo is… interesting. 

She asks essentially what you’d been asked the night before, why you are in town, who you’re staying with, what their number is, if you’d like to call any family or friends.

You manage to deflect each one, saying you’ll be fine, you can’t remember your friend’s number or where they live, your family don’t know your friends number so it wouldn’t help.

Taking your empty plate away once you’re done, Flo places them in the sink and claps her hands together. “Well, come on, then I’ll take you back to the station.”

You nearly choke on your mouthful of water. “What?”

She looks faintly surprised. “Maybe your friend’s come looking for you or made a call. Either way, I think it’s the best place for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry, bit of a restless night,” you answer quickly with a small smile.

She nods sympathetically before grabbing her car keys.

_Shit. No, don’t worry. The station is close to where the portal is. Just give them the slip when you get there, run for it, get back home._

_Perfect. An excellent plan._

* * *

You’re ready.

You’re so ready to do it.

You’ve psyched yourself up throughout the whole journey.

You can do this.

You’ll be home within the hour.

You’re full of hope, you’re stepping out of the car, you’re getting ready to run, you’re—

The Station door slams open.

“Flo, what the _hell_?”

Oh, no.

You and Flo turn, you swiftly, guiltily, Flo slowly, arching an eyebrow.

Hopper strides out of the Station, stopping only a couple of feet from you both, his hands on his hips.

“You can’t just take a person of interest out of the Station without tellin’ anyone!”

_Hang on, ‘person of interest’?_

Flo folds her arms. “Well, I wasn’t gonna let her sleep here, where would she? In a _cell_? She’s not under arrest, Hopper.”

Hopper sighs, rather exasperatedly. “Flo, you’re not responsible for her.”

She bristles at that, her back straightening. “Well, then who the damn hell else is?”

Bizarrely, her protective display warms you but you still keep your eyes on Flo, unable to look at him. She looks at you then, smiling.

“Come on, honey, let’s get some more coffee and see what we can—”

“Actually, Flo, I’d like to talk to her.”

You don’t catch yourself in time. You look at him. His mouth is set in a thin line. He’s so handsome. You hate everything that’s happening right now.

“’Her’? She has a name,” Flo huffs.

_I feel like a kid with my divorced parents._

He gives another exasperated sigh. “Well, if I was given the chance to talk to her, then I would know that.”

“Powell already spoke to her, Hop, so—”

“She’s a potential suspect, Flo.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

You both say it together, but Hopper looks at you instead of Flo, perhaps out of sheepishness at speaking about you rather than at you, or because it’s the first time you’ve spoken.

“You’re a potential suspect in a missing persons case, miss.”

Flo inhales sharply. “You can’t mean Will’s case. Hop, look at her, she couldn’t have—”

“Flo.” His voice is quiet but firm.

She presses her lips together, then looks to you.

You’re still staring at Hopper, your heart pounding.

_Shit._

* * *

_Oh my God.  
_

_I’m about to talk one-on-one, completely alone, with Chief Jim Hopper._

_And I’m a suspect in the Will Byers case._

That can’t be right, though, because from your somewhat extensive knowledge of _Stranger Things_ Will doesn’t go missing until the night of the 6th November…

_Don’t ask, you’ll look crazy, just…_

Your gaze darts about his desk as he closes the door to his office and you take a seat.

_Desk calendar, **yes**._

It’s November 8th.

You’ve not only come through a portal to another world, you came to it on a completely different _day_.

The night after Will Byers went missing.

_Oh, God, why is this happening?_

“So…” He rounds the desk and sits behind it, taking a few pages from the stack beside him and glancing over it. “… I read Powell’s report. You were walkin’ alone by the woods.” He then looks to you. “Why?”

_We’re getting straight to it, then._

Thankfully, strangely, your anxiety at the fact you’re being tied to a crime has taken the edge off the fact you’re talking to Jim Hopper.

You lick your lips. “As I said last night, I was walking home.”

“From where?”

A fair would be too risky to say, as you have no idea if there’s one in the area, so… “A friend’s house.”

“You there for a fancy dress party?” He gestures at you. “You were dressed as a pirate if I remember rightly.”

You smile faintly. “Yeah. We were celebrating a birthday.”

“Right.” He glances down at the notes before him, then sits back. “Why were you alone, though? Powell wrote you got the bus but then it was running out of gas so you were made to get off and walk.”

As silence continues after a moment, you raise your eyebrows slightly. “Yes, that’s correct.”

His features give nothing away. “There’s no bus that passes through that route at that time of night, though.”

You have to react quickly. “Well, I was on a bus, so.”

He’s silent again, and you’ve seen enough cop shows to guess this is a tactic. You remain silent, too.

Hopper inhales a breath, then folds his arms. “Powell also wrote that you said you had four cocktails last night. Would you consider yourself a ‘light-weight’?”

The question sends a flash of irritation through you. “No. I wasn’t drunk, if that’s what you’re implying. I’d had those cocktails a few hours before I got the bus.”

“You also said you heard an explosion in the woods.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where?”

“Close to where I was. I was going to investigate it but I was too afraid.” _I wish I had been._

Hopper runs his hand down his mouth. “You don’t think it was just a firework?”

You press your lips together, trying to control your irritation. “I know what a firework looks like, nothing lit up the sky and it didn’t sound as loud as one. It just sounded like it was muffled. I did see a light shining in the trees so I thought there were people there, maybe kids playing.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No, I didn’t see anything but the light.”

“You didn’t see anyone at all, though? You didn’t pass anyone on the road, there was no one else on the bus?”

That’s when you realise.

_Shit. I have no alibi. Just the truth, which will see me locked up for insanity in a different world._

Clearing your throat, you can’t help the edge of resignation that laces your tone. “No, I didn’t see anyone else. Two people got off the stop before where I had to get off at, though.”

_Two people who don’t even exist in this world. Fake-Barb and an old lady._

Hopper is silent for a few moments, watching you. Then, he clasps his hands together on the desk. “Look, we don’t have any reports of an explosion, but we do have a missing kid to find so how about you—”

Raised voices break out outside the office.

Both your heads whip to the side out of reflex, but the blinds are down, blocking your view. Hopper stands and you turn in your seat as the voices near the door.

It bursts opens.

Flo is the first person your eyes land on, her eyebrows raised. 

“Chief, I’m sorry, I couldn’t—”

“Hop, I think I—”

Joyce Byer’s, her eyes wide, her hands in mid-air, freezes as she stares at you.

“You…”

_Oh, no…_

You already hate what you don’t know is coming.

She exhales a heavy breath. “… I dreamt about you.”

“Joyce…” Hopper’s voice is so gentle behind you as he moves to her, but you can’t take your eyes off of her.

You’re torn between the fact this is _Joyce Byers,_ and that you want to comfort her because she’s so distressed.

She doesn’t stop looking at you either. “I did, Hop, I did. You. you had a phone in your hand but it was so _small_ , and you, you were—”

Hopper stops only a step or two away from her, his voice still gentle. “Joyce, do you know this woman?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’ve never met you, have I?”

The way she says it is so… _aware_ , somehow.

You find your voice after a moment. “Ah, no.”

“Then how did I dream about you.” She says it so quietly, her eyes shining with tears.

You know it’s a show. You know it’s not real. _They’re_ not real.

But now, with Joyce standing before you, heavy, dark circles under her eyes, her hands shaking, tears beginning to fall, it feels so real. You feel your throat closing slightly with emotion.

“I’m, I’m so sorry about your son.”

She just nods faintly, still staring at you.

From the corner of your eye, you see Flo nod in Hopper’s direction, and gently takes Joyce by the arms. “Come on, honey. I need a glass of water. Let’s get one for you, too.”

Joyce allows herself to be led away, finally tearing her gaze from you as her features crumble.

Swallowing hard, you have to prevent your own from doing the same.

As the door closes behind them, you sniff and turn back in your seat to face the desk. Hopper returns to his chair and you feel his eyes on you. You don’t meet his gaze until he’s seated.

Exhaling a long breath, he then looks down at his hands.

“You’re new in town, you were walkin’ alone on a road with no bus route the night after Will Byers goes missing, you don’t come up on any of our systems, you’re convinced you heard an explosion, Joyce Byers believes she saw you in her dreams…” He looks up at you. ”… How about you start tellin’ me somethin’ that makes sense.”

You open your mouth, then close it.

_Oh, fuck it._

What is there to lose. Well, you could still make a run for it. You’re not a fast runner but you could give it your damn best.

The door bursts open for the second time, making both of you jump, your head whipping round to find the source.

Officer Callahan, slightly out of breath, points at you both. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on a minute, Chief—”

“Callahan, where the _hell_ have you been?!”

The officer waves his hand slightly, trying to draw breath. “Hang on, Chief, she… she’s tellin’ the truth…”

Both of you stare at him.

_**What now.** _

Inhaling a deep breath, Callahan continues. “I was drivin’ by the woods, patrollin’ for any signs of the kid, last night, and I saw this flash of light and this sound like somethin’ blew up, I thought it was some kids dickin’ about so I went to see but it wasn’t, there was this…”

“What, Callahan?” Hopper demands as Callahan pauses to take a breath.

“… it was this…”

You can’t stop yourself, half-hopeful, half-desperate.

“… Portal?” you murmur.

Callahan snaps his fingers and points at you. “ _Yes_ , yes, that’s it. A portal. All circular and wavy and weird.”

You realise you’re smiling, relief flooding over you.

_I’ve got my fucking alibi._

_Of sorts._

_We must have just missed each other._

You realise, after a moment, that Hopper hasn’t said anything. Turning in your chair, you look at him. His eyebrows are raised, his mouth is open slightly and his jaw is tight.

“Well,” he suddenly says in a bright tone, as if you’re his two, overzealous children that he has to entertain. ”Let’s go see this portal, shall we?"

* * *

You’re surprisingly grateful that Callahan talks for the entirety of the ride.

He switches his gaze from the road to Hopper in the passenger seat, then to you in the rear-view mirror.

“… I ain’t ever seen anything like this in my life, Chief, I thought I was goin’ mad until Powell told me just now about this lady that had come in and she’d heard an explosion and she didn’t seem to be from around here and I _knew_ we’d see the same thing…”

Hopper doesn’t say a word.

Each word Callahan says, though, gives you a new spark of hope.

_I’m going to go home._

It’s not long before Callahan pulls up by the side of the road. It has to be the road you walked down, though it looks so different in the daylight. Stepping out of the car, shouldering your tote bag, you gaze across to the woods. It’s less frightening, even inviting—

Behind two trees, partially hidden, shines a light.

You feel the two men pause in the same moment you do.

“What the hell…” Hopper crosses the road first, his hand instinctively going to his gun.

You glance at Callahan who glances at you. You follow behind him.

Your heart is pounding. Well, you don’t think it’s been at its normal rate for 24 hours, but now it accelerates that bit more.

You’re not mad. This is real.

_Don’t think about that too much or you might actually go mad._

As you approach, you hear a faint, low humming coming from the… You and Callahan had both settled on calling it a portal but now you actually get a look at it it seems more like a…

_Wait, I didn’t actually see it when I came through._

You’d looked around, having thought you’d tripped on something but you’d seen… nothing.

_Why the hell didn’t I?_

It’s more like a mirror, shimmering and reflecting the forest.

_Maybe because it was dark, that’s why I didn’t._

Hopper’s low scoff pulls you from your thoughts. He’s staring at it, his hand still on his gun. He takes a step towards it and—

You all make some sort of a sound as the portal _shrinks_. Hopper automatically takes a step back, and it widens to its normal size.

The silence between you all stretches on.

You’re about to announce that, well, this was great but you’re heading home, when Hopper turns sharply and locks his eyes on you.

“Tell me the truth, now.”

Slightly taken aback by A) the force of his gaze and B) trying to figure out exactly _what_ to say, your mouth drops open slightly.

“Uhm…”

You glance at Callahan, maybe hoping he’ll just start talking and give you time, but Hopper seems to interpret the look differently.

Looking to his officer, he drops his hand from his gun and starts to stride back towards the road.

“Radio in to Powell to help you get this place cordoned off, don’t talk to anyone else, we don’t need a panic. You,” he directs at you, “Come with me.”

Before either of you can question him, he’s already at the road, crossing it to the car.

Clearing your throat, you give Callahan a light smile before you’re once again following after Hopper.

Callahan lifts his hands, then drops them.

“Right, I’ll just be… here.”

* * *

_I’ve imagined this a thousand times._

_But in definitely sexier circumstances._

You’re at Hopper’s trailer.

_**Hopper’s trailer.** _

You’re still hovering by the door so you let your gaze sweep the room. It’s as messy as it had been portrayed on the show. The coffee table is surprisingly clear, though, save for a local newsletter which you have to stop yourself from picking up and reading. A blanket lies draped across one of the couches.

_That’s where he sleeps when he’s too drunk to get to bed._

It’s incredibly strange; knowing so much about someone you’re supposed to regard as a stranger. It feels… intrusive.

You’d both been silent for the ride here, but now you have a hundred questions. You decide to settle on the most sensible one, though

“Uh, why are we here and not at the station?”

_Not that I’m complaining._

“I thought you maybe didn’t want to say what you’re gonna say in front of Callahan.”

He emerges from behind the refrigerator door, closing it with one hand, his other one holding a beer bottle. He doesn’t offer you one. Uncapping the top, he tosses it into the sink then moves across the room and sits in the nearest armchair. He gestures for you to sit, too.

You do as you’re bade, sitting on the couch next to you, the tote bag at your feet, your hands in your lap.

“Explain,” is all he says.

And, after a pause, you do.

You hardly pause to take a breath, not daring to in case he takes the chance to laugh or call you crazy. To his credit, though, he doesn’t react once throughout.

You start with what year you’re from, how you were out on Hallowe’en night and retell the story of the bus debacle more truthfully. You tell him about your phone losing its signal, how you heard what sounded like an explosion and went to investigate it, then how you felt like you couldn’t turn or look away from it, how it pulled you in. You continue on, recounting truthfully up until the moment you met him.

The only thing you leave out is that, to your world, his isn’t real. For some reason, it doesn’t feel right to tell him.

When you finish, he looks at you, silent. The beer bottle is balanced on his thigh, his hand tight around it, his features expressionless.

You shift slightly, playing with your hands.

“Well, I—”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

It’s your turn to look at him, your mouth open. He scoffs, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yep, it’s all true.”

For some reason you’re… annoyed.

He scoffs again. “You’re tellin’ me I’m supposed to believe you’ve, what, _time-travelled_ here?”

“Yes, actually.” Your back’s straighter now, your lips pressed together.

“Is this a fuckin’ joke?”

“A joke? You saw it with your own damn eyes, Chief.”

If he’s surprised by the bite to your tone he doesn’t show it, and, thankfully, he doesn’t scoff again either.

“How, then? How did this all happen?”

“I don’t _know_ , I’m not a fucking _scientist_.”

“So, I’m just supposed to believe you, huh?”

“Yes.”

Your sure, rapid response makes his lips twitch slightly, and you can’t believe he might actually want to _smile_.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe?” you continue, your voice having risen slightly, “You _saw_ it with your _own eyes_.”

“I don’t know what I saw,” he counters in a way that has you realising he’s wrestling with the facts and the impossibility of them.

Well, then.

_If he doesn’t believe this, then how is he going to believe Joyce about anything._

You don’t know where that thought comes from.

“I’ll go back through, I’ll prove it to you,” you announce as you rise to your feet, lifting your bag.

“What?” He’s full-on _smiling_ now in disbelief, staring at you.

“Take me back there, I’ll show you.”

He regards you, your arms folded, your eyebrow arched, your features determined. Sighing heavily, he sets the bottle down on a table beside him and pushes himself up.

“All right, but then afterwards we’re goin’ to the Station and we’re gonna find your friends.”

* * *

“… This is a fuckin’ waste of time…” Hopper grumbles behind you as you trudge through the dry, fallen leaves.

_I’ll show you._

Callahan leaning against a nearby tree, raises his eyebrows at the sight of you both.

“Gee, that was quick.” He glances from Hopper to you. “He doesn’t believe whatever you told him, does he?”

“Nope.”

You stride past him, heading straight for the portal. Powell stands on the other side of it, finishing tying some tape to a tree to cordon the area off. You wish you had the time to get his opinion on it. You duck under the tape before you and turn to Hopper.

He stays behind the tape, his arms folded. Glancing at the portal then to you, he shakes his head wearily.

“Well, if this miraculously works and you don’t come back, it was nice knowin’ you, sweetheart.”

You hate the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

_I’ll show you, you bastard. This isn’t even gonna be the weirdest thing you’ll see this month._

“Yeah, you, too.” 

You turn to the portal.

You turn back after a split second to add before you can think, “You’re _such_ a pain the ass, even bigger than I would have thought.”

“What did you just say?”

His words, however, are drowned out by the growing humming of the portal. You’ve turned back and your gaze is locked onto it now and you can feel the familiar pull and tug of it. 

You can’t look away. 

You can’t stop yourself from moving towards it.

You can’t hear Hopper as he tries to get closer to you, calling to you.

* * *

It’s night time.

You’re staring up at the stars in the sky.

There’s so many of them.

_There’s something digging into my back._

Pushing yourself up with a groan, your hands pressing into mud and leaves, you get to your feet. Looking down, you find the source of your discomfort is your bag. Lifting it and brushing leaves off of it, you look around.

Trees. Lots and lots of trees, and…

No portal.

You can’t stop a wide smile from spreading across your lips.

_There, see, you disbelieving dick, I was right, now I’m…_

_Home._

You’re home. You’re still grinning, looking beyond the trees. Yes, there’s the road you had walked on before this whole mess, now you can go home and…

Your smile starts to fall.

You’d been in Hawkins.

You’d spoken with Powell, Callahan, Flo, Joyce and… Hopper.

You’d actually been there, in their world.

There were so many missed opportunities. There was so much more you could have done, could have said, could have asked.

You could have…

_Stop it, you’re **home** now, that’s what you wanted. That wasn’t real. That was… That was…_

Your phone buzzes in your bag.

Looking down at it, you open it after a moment and pull it out.

You have a message.

From Meg.

> UGH nightmare, that’s why I hate public transport. CALL ME!!

You release a sound, half of disbelief, half of relief.

No time has passed at all.

Your thumb moves quickly, and you lift your phone to your ear.

“I cannot _believe_ this has happened, it is such an outrage, I am going to spam the bus company’s Twitter until you get some kind of compensation, how _dare_ they, the absolute fucking bastards…”

As Meg rants on, a smile returns to your lips and you start to walk.

It only takes you five minutes to get home, and Meg talks the whole way, only drawing breath when you close your front door.

“… ugh, anyway, I’ll help you write up an email. Are you all right, anyway?”

You pause, placing your bag on your couch. You think back over the lost 24 hours, everything you hadn’t had time to feel. You can’t stop your eyes from filling.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Meg asks with a great deal of concern as you sniff, wiping at your eyes

“I just…” You exhale a long breath. “… It was a bit scary, that’s all.”

“Oh, babe, oh please don’t cry. You’re fine now, you’re back home. But the TV on and get into your pyjamas. How about I come over in the morning, we have pancakes and watch whatever’s on?”

You crack a smile even though she can’t see it. “That sounds amazing.”

“Duh, I’m going to be there, of course it will be.”

You laugh, grateful for the release it brings you.

_Forget about everything. Write it off as a weird day. Never tell anyone. It wasn’t real._

Shoving everything, _everything_ from your mind, you lose yourself in making plans with Meg, crossing the room and entering your bedroom as you laugh again.

Behind you, unseen, the lamps flicker. Slowly, then rapidly. The TV turns on, the screen flashes white. 

Then, they cease.

The lights shine warmly.

All is as it should be.

The End… ?


End file.
